


In the Perpetual Spring

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Trope Bingo Round 3, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peri had always been of the opinion that the size of a bed didn't matter so much as the technical ability of its users. The Doctor did have experience and talent, but his grandiose flourishes weren't suited to small spaces. Moreover, he had some very strange ideas about vegetables (that hadn't changed with regeneration, apparently). Peri really wished he'd go till his wild oats elsewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Perpetual Spring

Peri had always been of the opinion that the size of a bed didn't matter so much as the technical ability of its users. The Doctor did have experience and talent, but his grandiose flourishes weren't suited to small spaces. Moreover, he had some very strange ideas about vegetables ( _that_ hadn't changed with regeneration, apparently). Peri really wished he'd go sow his wild oats elsewhere.

The TARDIS certainly had space for it. The on board gardens were the size of a small country. There were intricately trimmed hedges, delicate fountains, ornamental woods, tangled briers, secluded benches, and long, stately rows of celery cross-planted with googly-eyed purple fiddle-heads. It was vast, elaborate, and unmistakably alien.

Peri adored it, and took great pleasure in cataloguing the varied species as well as the weather and soil conditions which each favoured (one area of the garden was kept in a constant stormy gale for the benefit of a shy silver and violet lichen the Doctor called, _dripsbane_. Another area contained a small active volcano in order to keep the white-vined _lavaweed_ and fire-blooming _magnusfleur_ healthy). It was all very lovely (and sometimes terrifying; especially the carnivorous plant collection; especially the _mobile_ members of that collection), but Peri longed for the simple Zen of a traditional Earth vegetable plot.

The Doctor had been very helpful, up to a point. The bed itself was wonderfully constructed. It was made of red clay bricks and filled with the kind of rich, moist and crumbly compost that took several years of carefully monitored decomposition to come out with. Combined with the TARDIS's perfect climate controls, Peri knew that she'd get a bumper crop out of whatever she planted – 

If she ever actually managed to get any of it planted.

"Marigolds, Peri? Marigolds? Of all the pedestrian cultivars you could have chosen, and I thought this was meant to be a vegetable garden? _Marigolds?_ "

"It is, but marigolds are good for warding off pests…"

"I can assure you, Peri, there are no _pests_ on board my TARDIS. Perish the thought."

"I can think of one big one," Peri muttered.

"What was that?"

Peri pointedly turned over a chunk of dirt with her spade, readying a hole for a one of the cheerful little flowers. "I _like_ marigolds, Doctor, they remind me of home, and that was the point of this garden."

The Doctor picked up one of the waiting marigolds and inspected it closely. "A silly point, I think. When one is travelling home should be the furthest thing from their mind. The adventure, Peri, not needless nostalgia. And if you require a shield for your garden against hypothetical blights and locusts why not _bloppterrist_? It's beautiful, functional…"

Peri rescued the plant from the Doctor's hands before he could toss it to the ground. She gently pried it out of its pot, taking care not to damage its roots. "If it's that one that looks like a violent cross between a cactus and a jaundiced flamingo than _no_. Nothing grows near it, or hadn't you noticed? I think it leaches some kind of toxin into the surrounding soil."

The Doctor huffed. "Obviously. It keeps back on the weeds, however, and it is _yellow_ like your distressing marigolds, though far more attractive."

"And they are lovely in _your_ part of the garden," Peri said, "but I thought we'd agreed this was to be mine? And can't I just plant it my own way?" 

"Obviously, who am I to step on your independence?"

"As you say…" She managed to get the first marigold into the earth. One small success, at least.

"But the fact remains: you are doing it wrong."

Peri threw down her spade and glared at him. "Doctor!"

"Peri, Peri, Peri, please see that I am only trying to help."

"And I am only trying to garden."

"But in such a boring way! _Marigolds_ , Peri. _Beans_ and _radishes_. Such ignoble crops. It's like a peasant plot."

"It's what I want, Doctor," said Peri, trying to sound firm.

The Doctor raised his eyes upwards, as if pleading with the heavens for her to see sense. Of course, there was no heaven up there, only the TARDIS-blue artificial sky. Still, the track of birdsong playing out of a concealed speaker system was very convincing, and the dirt gathering under Peri's fingernails was real, honest dirt.

"If it's what you want," the Doctor said, shaking his head.

"It is," Peri told him, for probably the hundredth time.

"I can't pretend to understand," he said, "but I suppose I'll let you get on with it. If you need any help, or if you change your mind about the _bloppterrist_ …"

"I'll be sure to let you know."

"Well then." He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the solo little marigold at the edge of the plot. The rest of the bed waited, black and untilled, full of possibility. "You know, Peri..."

" _Yes, Doctor_?" 

"It does have a certain... charm. It... I'm certain the end result will be lovely."

She had to smile. "Thank you."

"Even if it would be better with..."

"Doctor!"

"Lovely, Peri," he said, and then wandered off to trim the hedges.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For trope bingo prompt: sharing a bed


End file.
